Tiny Spark
by Metarie
Summary: Five days of shore leave: not nearly enough, but Scotty would have to make do. Scotty/Gaila.
1. Automated

_**Disclaimer: This is all the property of someone else who is much richer and more talented than I am. I'm just having a bit of fun. **_

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**_Scotty found his way into a bar. He was drunk already, but locating such an establishment had been simple enough - there were signs. Lots of signs. And seemingly all of them directed him to something resembling a bar. On this planet, it was technically easier to walk into a bar than to _not _walk into a bar. People liked bars on Risa. People liked being drunk on Risa. What happened on Risa stayed on Risa, and etcetera.

But yes, he was already drunk, thank you very much, which hardly mattered. He'd earned it. He worked hard and received no credit for it. Well, a little credit. Well, maybe they thanked him occasionally. It was possible. The details of the past few months were fuzzy at present. But to be quite frank, he deserved more credit. Whatever he got wasn't nearly enough. Every time he managed to push the _Enterprise_ past her limit, again, and effectively save the day, _again_, who got all the praise from Starfleet Command? Well, someone else must have, because he'd scarcely heard a word of it, and he suspected it was all on account of that beagle incident. That damn dog would haunt him the rest of his career if Admiral Archer had anything to say about it. And actually, he did. He was an admiral, and he had nothing to occupy his time outside of setting ghost canines on poor unsuspecting engineers.

Never mind that. He had a good five days of shore leave here on Risa with the rest of the crew, and Scotty fully intended to ignore them all and spend every second with some kind of intoxicating substance flowing through his veins. Any kind would do. He'd never been to Risa, but it was a Fabulous Tourist Destination according to all the pamphlets, and surely they had an equally fabulous variety of alcoholic beverages. Why not experiment? Scotty was always open to discovering new and exciting means of achieving drunken depravity.

He ambled towards a barstool and clumsily sat himself down. He considered carefully the menu that hung behind the bar before making his selection. "I'll have an Enolian spice wine," he slurred to the bartender, who was blue.

"Beg your pardon," said the bartender politely. "I didn't catch that."

Scotty thought hard for a moment. Had he pronounced it wrong? It had seemed fairly straightforward to him. "An... Eh-nol-i-an spice wine?"

"Ah, yes," said the bartender. "I'll have that right up for you."

These bloody people. No one ever understood him. Of course, the alcohol wasn't exactly helping that, but still. Well, he wasn't about to apologize for his accent. He wasn't about to change it for _anyone_. Now that he thought about it, he could not seem to recall a time when anyone had asked him to change it, but he was absolutely positive that they had all at one point secretly wished he would, and he resented them for that.

His drink arrived. It had a deep red hue to it and looked frightening, but he was not one to back away from a challenge. He swirled the liquid around a few times before taking a hearty gulp of it. It was revolting and burned in a bad way, a very very bad way, a "he now had three esophaguses" way, and he would definitely have gagged if he wasn't so good at this. This, meaning drinking. He really was a seasoned pro. If there were two things he was good at, it was engineering and booze. And possibly sex, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd even tried his hand at that. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He'd _tried his hand_ at it many a time, but what he hadn't done in ages was try his hand at sex with a beautiful girl. Last time must've been back at the Academy. God, that was depressing. He'd spent months upon months alone on a frigid ice planet with a... a... space monkey alien... thing, starving to death, by the way, and there were no bars he could have conceivably trolled for any ladies. Not that he trolled, or was one... he was very charming and handsome. His mum had always said so.

"Is that Enolian spice wine?" A voice, and it was definitely of the female variety, suddenly came out of nowhere right by his ear just as he was about to attempt another taste of his drink, and he started so much that he managed to slop half of it all down his front. Well, no one can be charming all the time.

"Uh, yes, it is," he answered, attempting to recover some dignity even as he used the sleeve of his jacket to dry the shirt underneath.

"I've heard those are pretty heavy," said the woman, who was dangerously close now and named Gaila, he finally realized, and she worked in Engineering, and she was green. Very green. Similar to how the bartender was blue. Scotty thought vaguely in a distant and strange part of his mind that he woud prefer green, if he'd ever have to choose.

"If by 'heavy' you mean the most repulsive drink this side of the galaxy, then you're spot on."

Gaila leaned innocently on the bar, chin in hand, eyelashes fluttering. "I notice you're still drinking it."

Scotty noticed that as well. It was an automatic thing - there was a glass in his hand, there was liquid in the glass, the obvious course of action was to lift it to his mouth and drink it. And he also noticed that with Gaila's appearence there had come a sudden feeling of bravado, an urge to impress, to show off how good he was at this drinking thing, to prove to her that he really was a seasoned pro, and he would drink the rest of this nasty red liquid if it was the last thing he would remember doing that night.

He took another sip. This time he gagged. So much for that. He coughed his way out of it, pretending he'd had a cough all night, _it was this weather, it was too nice for his liking, not what he was used to_ and so on.

Gaila smirked. His feeble excuses clearly weren't working. She cocked her head, and, ever so slyly, she reached around him - _how the bloody hell, _she wasn't even touching him, but still he gulped, all the bravado vanishing and his eyes growing wide - and she took the glass, now half empty. She raised it in the air, "Cheers," she said - _wait, was she really, was she really going to_ - and then knocked back what was left of the Enolian spice wine like it was nothing. Like it was... juice, even.

She winked at him before turning and slinking back to her friends. Oh, it was definitely a slink. He watched her all the way back, and he could confirm the slinkiness of that walk. Scotty hardly knew what to make of it.

_Good thing she's green,_ he thought, as he got rid of the spice wine glass and ordered a good old fashioned scotch on the rocks, putting in a request for a towel as an afterthought. Otherwise he'd be in grave danger of sweeping her off her feet.

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_**A/N: Feedback is appreciated! Thanks in advance. :)**_


	2. Inanimated

_**DISCLAIMER: Once again, this is all for my own entertainment – certainly no copyright infringement is intended.**_

_**A/N: Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews! I feel so validated.**_

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What Scotty was currently experiencing was very disorienting - he could not figure out for the life of him how he'd gotten where he was. One minute he was innocently sneaking into the hotel lobby for a complimentary doughnut or two, and the next he was on a bloody nature hike.

All he'd wanted was breakfast. Unfortunately, his timing arranged for him to meet Lieutenant Uhura on the way out. And of course she wanted him to come on Spock's little expedition. Apparently, she wasn't expecting a big turnout, and apparently, that had the potential to hurt her boyfriend's feelings. This seemed slightly off to Scotty, because he'd been under the impression that Spock was a Vulcan, and Vulcans weren't all that big on feelings, but he had enough sense to keep such sentiments to himself. He didn't fancy getting clawed to death when he was so hung-over, and since he was still a little fuzzy around the edges, he couldn't think of a legitimate reason why he should be unable to attend. Thus, here he was, outside. Why had he been such a tightwad? If he'd coughed up the credits for some room service, this never would have happened. He would still be inside where it was quiet, and dark. Now, he was doomed to spend the entire day walking around with several people he had been trying to get away from for the extent of his shore leave, underneath the brightest sun that ever existed. He was convinced that there was no sun on any planet anywhere in the entire galaxy that suffered its days under such a roasting orb of fire.

"I believe you will find that this star creates almost precisely the same conditions on Risa as your sun does on Earth," said Spock. "Your complaints are illogical."

Huh. He must've said that out loud.

His companions on this terribly exciting trip, besides Spock and Devil Woman (as he felt partial to calling Uhura at the moment), were to be the Captain and Gaila. Kirk, of course, looked bored out of his mind straight from the get go, and Gaila looked like she was politely trying not to look bored straight from the get go. Scotty couldn't imagine Spock caring all that much whether or not anyone was with him, but Uhura's arms were crossed in a very threatening manner and her expression indicated she was determined this silly thing be a success, even if she had to drag unsuspecting crewmates along kicking and screaming. Not that Scotty would have stood for anyone around him screaming, or making any kind of loud noises whatsoever - he was much more interested in their being quiet and leaving him in peace.

As they were led out into the trees beyond the entrance to the hotel, Scotty suppressed a sigh of frustration. Not even Gaila's presence could convince him this little excursion was worthwhile. Well, why would it? All she'd done was demonstrate an impressive tolerance for disgusting alien alcohol. What was so fantastic about that? It didn't mean a thing. And anyway, he wasn't interested. Not even with those adorable little sideways glances she kept giving him. Because, let's face it, she was still just as green as she was last night.

Not that there was anything at _all _wrong with the fact that she was green. Because there _wasn't_. Not at _all_. It's just that, traditionally, his type were girls that landed squarely in the "human" category. Well. As far as he knew, at least. There were a couple of times he could recall where he hadn't strictly asked, and it had been fairly dark at the time, _so... _

But he figured what he didn't know couldn't hurt him, unless he received news from Dr. McCoy that related otherwise.

All that to say, pretty or not, drop dead gorgeous or not, he just wasn't interested. Not even when she smelled like..._ like sweet, sweet ambrosia, a gift from the gods..._ okay, he really needed to stop walking so close to her.

Spock had, by now, been droning on and on about every minute detail of the bizarre reproductive ritual of the common Risan Bee, since apparently one had flown by, and apparently, they were all supposed to care. Naturally, Scotty wasn't paying any attention - although he perked up with some alarm at the phrase "the virgin queen organizes and leads a passionate mid-air orgy," which was a combination of words he had never expected to hear coming out of Spock's mouth, and one he quite hoped he never would again. He was, for the most part, preoccupied with the discomfort the blistering sun was causing his pale English skin, and the fact that every snapping twig, barking chipmunk and screeching jackdaw he heard in this bloody forest seemed to echo painfully around the inside of his skull. And as much as he told himself he didn't care - and he really didn't, by the way - he found himself increasingly intrigued by the conversation Gaila seemed to be having with their dear Captain Kirk.

"Come on. We had some good times back at the Academy, didn't we?" he was saying. They were walking a few paces in front of him - the path was just wide enough for two to walk comfortably side by side, which saw Spock and Uhura in the lead, Gaila and Kirk just behind and Scotty bringing up the rear, lagging as much as he could get away with and still hear what was going on in front of him. He kept his head down, doing what he thought was a bang-up job of looking casually disinterested.

"I seem to recall that we _almost_ had some good times at the Academy," Gaila whispered back, her voice teasing.

Kirk laughed a little too loudly at that, earning a glare from Uhura that silenced him temporarily. "Well, why don't we pick up where we left off?" he said, once it was safe. Was that voice intended to be seductive? Scotty silently thanked God he wasn't a woman. "You were always one of my favorites, you know."

Gaila rolled her eyes. "That's very charming."

"Gaila, you know it's true."

"You are such a liar."

"You didn't think I was so bad when you were confessing your passionate love for me."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Gaila gave him a puzzled look. "That is so weird."

Kirk grinned. "We had something special."

"Special access to the computer lab, you mean." Gaila's eyes were twinkling. Scotty could only see the side of her face as she looked at the Captain, but he was certain it was true. "Give it up, sir. I've moved on. Several times."

"Is that so?"

"Why don't you pay attention to the nature talk? Seems like you could stand to learn a thing or two."

Kirk started to protest, but Gaila was already ignoring him. She cleared her throat to get Spock's attention and raised her hand. "Isn't it true, Mr. Spock, that after one of these flying orgies, the male Risan bees directly involved experience a certain _loss,_ of sorts?"

One of Spock's eyebrows went up. "Yes, Technician, that is correct. Once they have attempted to mate with the female virgin queen, successful or not, the male's testicles detach. In fact, they explode, quite spectacularly."

Scotty tried his damndest to conceal his horrified laughter with a violent coughing fit. Kirk looked sick to his stomach. He'd subconsciously started leaning away from Gaila after this pertinent bit of information had come to light, while simultaneously trying to look like it was no big deal. He was a terrible actor – clearly, he thought this was a very big deal.

"Hmm. What an interesting turn of evolution," said Gaila, conversationally.

"Quite," said Spock.

As the oblivious Vulcan turned and continued on his way, Gaila looked over her shoulder at Scotty. She gave him that same wink of hers again, just like last night, then turned back forward.

And there was no doubt about it, not anymore. That Gaila was a firecracker.


	3. Incapacitated

**_Disclaimer: Still not mine. _**

**_A/N: This chapter just kept getting longer and longer. Hope you enjoy it, though... it's my favorite so far. And many thanks for the reviews, as well! You're the best. Yes, you. (But especially to Mattie, aka kaleidoscope heart, who practically forced me to start writing this, and to whom I am extremely grateful. You should all go read her stuff because she is wonderful.)  
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It was nearly dark by the time the hike was over. Daylight on Risa was shorter this time of year, but Scotty thought that was hardly a reason to spend all of it outside. He wasn't the only one with that particular opinion, as the Captain spent much of the last three hours complaining that it was hot, that he needed to go to the bathroom, were we there yet, and so on. And obviously it was intentional. The Captain could be a _touch_ immature, but it was never so pointed as it was today. It was for the entertainment value of those who weren't strictly enjoying themselves, and really, it was very amusing at first, given how even Spock began to look peeved with him after a while. Smoke was practically shooting out of Uhura's ears the whole time.

Eventually, though, Scotty sensed that the complaints began to take on a more literal note, and Uhura had to remind their fearless nature hike leader that Vulcan stamina put that of the rest of them to shame, and they should probably head back to civilization now. Kirk, naturally, could not repress the urge to make a comment on Vulcan stamina. Uhura, by some miracle, controlled _her _urge to slap him senseless, though she did seem to quicken her pace as if she hoped he'd get left behind and eaten by a Risan Wallabear (another creature of which they had heard an extensive amount).

Scotty went back to his hotel room and turned on the shower, as he was miserable and drenched in sweat. He knew that if _he_ couldn't stand the sight and stench of himself, he could hardly expect anyone else to. Not that he _did _expect anyone else to. Because he really did not. But it was better to be safe than sorry, on the off-chance that he would run into a certain green-skinned beauty in whichever bar he ended up in.

Hmm. As this occurred to Scotty, he turned the hot water off and let it run cold. That was nonsense. He wouldn't meet Gaila again tonight. There were hundreds of bars in this sector of the Risan entertainment district. She could end up anywhere. The fact that he'd seen anyone he recognized at all last night was a surprise. He was positive it wouldn't happen again, however much he secretly wanted it to.

Not that it felt like much of a secret anymore. But Gaila could have her pick of men, and Scotty imagined he wasn't high on her list. That was just as well. She wasn't particularly high on his. His list wasn't very _long_, of course… there was really only… well, just the one lady on there, at the moment.

But he was sure that if he _knew_ any other single and attractive women, they would be higher than Gaila. He was fairly certain of that. Gaila just happened to be around, and it just so happened that she smelled heavenly, on top of being marvelously intelligent and probably the only woman in the universe that was not interested in hooking up with Captain Kirk. At least not anymore. But as soon as they were both back on the ship, there was no chance this infatuation of his would continue, as he rarely saw her.

…Except for every time he would have to oversee anything happening in the transporter room, given that she was a technician there. Damn.

He would cross that bridge when he came to it. Or burn that bridge, whichever course of action seemed most appropriate. He'd _forgotten_ she worked in there. How had he never taken this kind of notice of her before now? What was _wrong_ with him?

Scotty sighed.

Once he'd dried himself off, slapped on some cologne and gotten dressed, he ventured back out into the nightlife. There were _Enterprise_ crewmembers everywhere – their first shore leave, six months into their five year mission, and everyone was taking full advantage of it.

Scotty felt that his goal to exist in a perpetual state of drunkenness was failing horribly. That hike had done nothing for him except sober him up and give him a sunburn. So it was that he made his way back into a bar and sat down at the counter, ordering the strongest thing they had that was not Enolian spice wine.

It was a different bar from the previous night. This one had music, a thumping, pulsing beat, like the heartbeat of the planet. And there were dancers, onstage and off. The ones onstage were lovely, he supposed, but Scotty had never had much of a stomach for that sort of thing, and definitely wasn't in the mood for tolerating it tonight. As for the maniacs on the dance floor – well. He contemplated leaving, lest someone come along and force him to join in with that nonsense. He couldn't think of anyone who might do that, but this was Risa, and people were crazy here. In the end, he decided against leaving, because whatever he was drinking was irresistible. Better to just keep his head down and drink. Drink away his imagined sorrows.

"They aren't imaginary," he told himself crossly, as he slammed down the third glass of whatever it was and ordered another. "They're real. Whatever they are, they're definitely real."

Because he definitely felt something. Or like he was missing something. There was probably a word for it. He wasn't entirely sure. All he knew was… all he'd had for company for months was Keenser and a bloody tribble. And once he got to the Enterprise, he'd had _more_ company, but he still somehow managed to spend most of his time with bloody _Keenser_. _No one _would blame him or even be _surprised_ if some kind of psychological disorder were suddenly brought to light.

Maybe he needed to see a counselor. They could give him a pill and send him on his way. Or, wait. Counselors were the ones that tried to _counsel_ you. That wouldn't do. Then he'd have to talk about his feelings. Well, never mind that, then. And the glass in front of him was empty again.

Three more drinks later, he seemed to be having some trouble staying on his barstool. It kept moving out from under him, as if it had somewhere to be, or its shift was over and it just wanted to get home to its barstool wife and barstool children and barstool dog. And the room seemed as if it were about to take flight, as well – very strange. The music seemed to be quite a ways off. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I think that's probably enough, don't you?"

Scotty turned and looked up, squinting because – well, for some reason the edges of his vision were sort of blurred – and then realized he didn't need to, because there was no mistaking that fiery red hair contrasting against that flawless green skin.

"Gaila!" he tried to say, but just then, gravity finally won and the floor slid up to meet him.

Next thing he knew, he was being helped up and out of the bar, leaning heavily on someone – oh. It was Gaila. Gaila was taking him home. Gaila was seeing him like this. Oh dear. This did not help his imaginary chances with her.

"Tell me your room number," she was asking, her voice cheery, like she did this all the time. She'd probably dealt with a lot of drunk men in her time. Oh, that sounded terrible. Scotty needed to stop making such assumptions. Gaila was a very classy lady, he was sure.

"I'm sorry," Scotty slurred. "I'm so drunk. I'm ssry."

"Yes, I noticed," she said, smiling as she adjusted the arm she had around his back. Oh. She had an arm around his back. She was actually coming into quite a bit of contact with him. He wished he could tell if he'd be able to remember any of this later. "It's all right. Just tell me your room number and we'll get you into bed."

"'S'three oh four." Was that right? Seemed like it. There was at least a three in it. _Did she say "into bed"?  
_

Fortunately, Scotty's memory was as yet unaffected, as the room number he'd come up with was correct. Gaila helped him sit down on the bed, where he sat staring at his shoes, which were both untied.

"This is not safe at all," he told her, as he continued to stare at the laces.

"You definitely could have tripped on those," Gaila agreed. She was kneeling on the floor in front of him now – what? Wait, what? What was she – oh. She was just taking his shoes off for him. Well, that was sweet of her.

Scotty started rambling, because he couldn't think of anything else to do. "We've got… spaceships that can fly at speeds faster than y'can, y'know, even compre_hend_, and we've got teleporters that… _scramble up molecules_ and things, and we've got… _aliens_, and stuff like that but we've still got shoes with _laces?"_ Scotty had never thought of this before, but it was quite silly, wasn't it? This was supposed to be the _future_. "Whatever happened to shoes with Velcro? That would be much safer than this."

"You're probably right. We should send a letter of complaint to Starfleet and try to get them to change the dress code." Gaila set both shoes aside and stood up. "Come here. Let's get that coat off."

Scotty didn't move or raise his arms, because she had somehow gotten behind him on the bed – and he knew, very clearly, that it was just because she was trying to get him to take his coat off so he could go to sleep, since that was what she had _just_ said, but _Gaila was in bed with him, sort of_. He could not think about anything else. Maybe if he refused to take his coat off, she would stay forever. This made perfect sense.

Then again, she was trying to undress him, as she'd just started to gently tug on the collar of his jacket. It was all too much to process, and he was much, much too drunk.

"Come on," she repeated, a trace of amusement in her voice.

"I'm sorry," Scotty heard himself say, and he knew that if Gaila'd come just one drink later, they would be having this conversation with him in tears. Thank heaven for small mercies. (That had happened once, with someone else, a long time ago. He was still trying to overcome the embarrassment of it.)

"It's all right that you're drunk, it doesn't matter to me."

"No, not about that. About… no. It's something else. I'm just, I'm _so_ _sorry_."

Gaila stopped trying with the coat and let her hands rest on his shoulders. "For what, then?" She sounded surprised.

"It's just that…" His brow furrowed. "You just… smell so good, all the time, and you're so… pretty, and your _hair_ is just… so _red_…" Oh, god. He was so drunk. She wasn't saying anything, but her hands were still on his shoulders, which seemed like it wasn't a bad thing. He started talking very fast. "And you're jus' bein' so _nice_ to me right now, even though I'm totally wankered, and you're tryin' to undress me and all of this, and it's very sweet, and I _know_ it means nothing, but…" He trailed off. He had no idea where all that had been going, but there it was, out in the open, and people were looking at it and probably judging him for it. This was definitely going to mean the end of all this imaginary stuff with Gaila. Well, that was probably a good thing.

Scotty heard the bed squeak slightly as Gaila slid around him to sit on the edge of the bed. Their legs were touching now. Scotty couldn't look up at her, because his fingernails had begun to seem very, very interesting, if a bit dirty.

"Scotty."

Now he couldn't help but steal a glance at her, because the way she said his name was so… so… oh, _wonderful_, he guessed would be the word for it. At any rate, he loved the sound of it in her mouth. And how her lips looked… she was wearing gold lipstick. They made gold lipstick?She was a lot closer to him than he realized.

He quickly looked back down at his fidgeting hands. "Aye?"

"Hey," she said, and when he forced himself to look at her again, she leaned right in and kissed him. He was shocked, at first, but then he closed his eyes, letting it wash over him, breathing her in, the feel of her form against his… he really should have let her take the jacket off. It was much too bulky for a moment like this.

He'd had the chance to think vaguely about how he didn't have a clue what to do with his hands when she broke away, which felt… well, awful. But then she spoke, and her voice was kind, and sultry, and soft, and still very, very close. "Don't be nervous," she whispered.

_Too late for that,_ he thought.

Then, quite suddenly, he wasn't thinking much of anything at all.


	4. Exacerbated

**_DISCLAIMER: Still not mine. I'm just messing around.  
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The following morning, Scotty woke late, taking quite a while to fumble towards consciousness. He was reluctant to open his eyes for two reasons - one, he once again felt an enormous hangover coming on, and two, he knew that he'd just been dreaming about something truly fantastic, and while he'd already forgotten the particulars, the lingering warm glow would disappear as soon as he succumbed to the morning.

Unfortunately, daylight was unrelenting, and the window coverings weren't doing a damn thing to keep it out. So it was with a sigh that Scotty opened his eyes and realized all at once that someone's hand was resting lightly on his chest. His bare chest. Which initially struck him as the odder of the two things, since he typically slept in as many pieces of clothing as possible. But if he wasn't wearing any shirts, and someone else's hand was there... hold on. Someone was in bed with him. And...

"Holy - " He sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain in his head, and jumped out of bed, searching frantically for any scrap of clothing he could use to cover himself from Gaila, because there she was, in all her green glory, _in his bed_, blinking sleepily up at him. Apparently, his outburst had startled her awake, and apparently, she did not see anything out of the ordinary about this situation.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh my god. Oh my god."

_"What?"_

Scotty had located his trousers and pulled them on as expediently as possible. "Oh my god. Did we...? _Did_ we? Last night - "

"Yes. We did." Once again she looked more amused than anything else.

_"Oh my god."_

"Relax. It's never a good idea to start the day with a panic attack."

Scotty raked his hands through his hair. What had happened last night? He couldn't remember a thing... it was all just a fog... damn it.

Gaila swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, quite naked, her curly red hair practically floating around her shoulders, extra frizzy from sleep. Scotty was staring, he knew it. He tried to avert his eyes while she pulled her dress on over her shoulders - how did she manage to look so sexy doing something so damned ordinary - but he just kept stealing glances, because he couldn't help himself. Had they really?_ Really?_

She sauntered over to him, smirking. She was only slightly shorter than him, so when standing right in front of him she was almost at eye level with him. "Don't worry about it," she said, straightening her dress. Then she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, whispering in his ear, "See you soon, Scotty."

Gaila left, the automatic door hissing behind her, and Scotty remained rooted to the spot, swearing over and over inside his head that he would _never _drink again.

That evening, he ran into Dr. McCoy. "Scotty," he said. "I need a drink. Come with me."

"I'm not sure - I don't really think... um, well, all right."

He followed McCoy into the third bar in as many nights, feeling sheepish, but at least thankful that he would hopefully have someone to keep him from making any idiotic decisions.

"Two gin and tonics," McCoy told the waitress, and there went Scotty's recent resolution, because it would be impolite not to drink something someone else bought for him. Really, it was just a matter of etiquette.

For the next hour, Scotty drank while he listened to McCoy complain about everything. And he literally meant _everything._ Risa was too crowded. Risa was too hot. Risa's gravity was too light. Shore leave was too long and he had too much paperwork to fill out. The paperwork was the captain's fault. The captain got them all into too much trouble. The captain was generally a reckless idiot. It seemed that everything the captain did annoyed McCoy, and he went on endlessly about it, but Scotty stopped paying attention when Gaila showed up. Did she have some kind of a radar? Or a _homing beacon? _She could have planted one on him last night. In his pocket maybe. Scotty searched his jacket pockets. Nothing. It had to be somewhere, because she kept _finding _him, and even though he kept his head down she still walked right over to their table. It was McCoy's fault that time, Scotty decided, because he had a loud voice anyway, and the volume only increased with his intoxication.

"Hello, boys," she greeted them as she walked up, grinning. She was wearing a form fitting little black dress with those off-shoulder sleeves and her legs were up to here and her hair was pulled back and braided and he should probably stop staring but it wasn't like he was the only one. Gaila had the attention of nearly everyone in the bar, which meant everyone was now staring at them.

Scotty ducked his head down. "Gaila," he said, his voice threatening to squeak slightly. He cleared his throat. "You know Dr. McCoy, I'm sure..." What was that? Of course she did. He was the bloody ship's doctor, everyone knew him.

"Care to join us?" McCoy asked, before Scotty could do anything to prevent it.

"Always," she said. As she sat down, their waitress came over. "I'll have what they're having," Gaila told her.

McCoy raised his eyebrows. "You sure you can handle one of these? Doesn't really seem like it's your thing."

"That's cute, Doctor." Gaila leaned back in her chair, completely at ease, which was the complete opposite of how Scotty felt at the current time. "You so don't know what my thing is."

Her drink arrived. She downed it in three gulps. McCoy was aghast. Scotty, for some reason, was not surprised.

Gaila turned to Scotty. "You think you could get me a Samarian Sunset from the bar? I think our waitress is busy." She gestured towards a table on the other side of the bar, where their waitress was getting friendly with Captain Kirk. Actually, it could have been the other way around.

"Know what he'll be doing later," muttered McCoy, as he took another swig on his drink.

"Ah, yes," Scotty told Gaila finally, feeling distracted because of the way she was smiling at him, like she knew something he didn't. Which, he thought bitterly, she did. She knew a whole night of things he didn't. "Be right back."

Scotty worked his way through the crowd to the bar. "One Samarian sunset," he told the bartender wearily. "Actually... and a scotch, as well. On the rocks."

The bartender, a short Ferengi, set about making the drinks. "You here with the rest of the Starfleeters?"

"That I am," said Scotty, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"You might want to watch out for her," the bartender said, nodding towards their table.

Scotty's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean?"

"I'm just saying. You know what Orion girls are like. They'll sleep with anyone to get what they want." He leaned forward, to give the illusion of some kind of trust, some kind of intimate secret being shared. "They love to hang around pleasure planets like Risa. Big vacation spot, you know. Lots of rich men to prey on."

"She's actually a technician on the _Enterprise_," Scotty retorted, his face feeling hot.

"I'm just saying. She'll have you wrapped around her finger before you know it." He shrugged.

"Yeah. All right. Can I just get those drinks, please?" Scotty was annoyed.

The Ferengi gave him a knowing look. "Ahh, I see. She must've already gotten to you."

Scotty let out a sigh of exasperation. "Look, can you just -"

"Don't look now, but I think you've got some competition."

"What?"

Scotty turned around. Gaila and McCoy had been joined by several other men, none of whom Scotty recognized, all of whom seemed enraptured by her. McCoy didn't even look annoyed, which Scotty took as a bad sign. Gaila seemed to have just finished telling a hilarious story, judging from burst of raucous laughter that erupted as soon as he'd turned around.

Forgetting about the drinks completely, Scotty marched right back over to the table before he realized what he was doing. "Gaila, so sorry to interrupt, but it's getting late, isn't it?"

She looked up at him, looking slightly confused. "What?"

"Weren't you just asking me if I could walk you back to your room?" Scotty invented wildly. He was not sure where this was coming from, but he felt very strongly that it was the right thing to do.

"Uh, yes, all right." Gaila scooted her chair out and waved goodbye to the rest of the guys at the table. "See you boys around."

Scotty followed Gaila outside.

"That was interesting," she said conversationally.

"What, the fact that a bunch of perverts swarmed you as soon as I left the table?"

Gaila laughed. "I like you when you're jealous."

"I'm _not_ jealous." He wasn't. He was just protective. "I'm just protective. Because... you're in Engineering, and ah, we look out for our own down there." Scotty was impressed with himself for coming up with that. New department rule, that.

"Oh, I see." Her eyes twinkled. "That's very admirable of you."

"I agree. I mean, who knows what could have happened back there?"

"Probably nothing. I'm very capable of defending myself, you know."

"Well, I never said you weren't."

"Gotcha." They were nearing the hotel. "So are you going to come in with me?"

Scotty was taken aback. "Uh… I hadn't planned on it." _I'm not drunk! I'd remember it this time!_

"Hmm… so you don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to want me either?"

"No, no," Scotty protested. "That's not what I… meant, at all." He was blushing. He didn't think she could tell in the dark, but he still got defensive. "Look, I'm not the one who wants anyone, you're stalking me."

Gaila looked at him skeptically. "Really. I'm _stalking_ you."

"Well… yes!"

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, you found me at every bar I've been in on this holiday! And you've got to admit, that's pretty strange, isn't it? There are loads of bars here. This is _Risa_."

"Well_ you_ seem interested in experiencing as many as possible."

"Maybe I'm a connoisseur! You don't know, do you? Or, maybe you do, since you're such a stalker."

"Are you a connoisseur? Which was your favorite of the three?" Gaila asked curiously.

Scotty crossed his arms. "I was partial to The Thirsty Gettle."

"Really? I thought the Torga Rose had a better atmosphere."

"Oh yeah? Hmm."

Gaila rolled her eyes. "But please. You don't think I could find anything better to do than stalk you on my vacation?" They walked through the automatic doors into the bustling hotel lobby.

Scotty held his hands up. "Why do you think I'm so confused?"

"Well. If you don't want to come up, you don't have to." She smiled sardonically. "Wouldn't want you to be any more traumatized by me."

"I'm not traumatized! I was never _traumatized!_"

"Well, it seems like if you came up this time, it would only exacerbate things."

"What's that mean?"

Gaila sighed. "It would make things worse."

"Well, if you don't want me to come up, I won't," Scotty said hotly.

"Okay, don't."

"I won't!"

"Okay, good!" She turned on her heels and headed for the elevator. As she got in, she turned around and grinned at him. "Good night!"

"Wha – okay, good night…?" Was she mad? Scotty realized he was waving, even though the door had already closed. As he attempted to cover it up by inconspicuously scratching the back of his neck, he noticed the receptionist was staring at him, having witnessed the entire confusing conversation. "Oh, piss off," he snapped, then turned and stomped back to the bar.


	5. Calibrated

It was with a certain amount of relief that Scotty returned to work the following week. The paperwork was extensive - not that he read anything he signed, that was someone else's job, but it took him a good part of his morning. While he had had a marginally enjoyable time on Risa, and he hadn't particularly missed Keenser, he had missed the engine room. It felt like home, and coming back always felt like he was putting the pieces of himself back together again.

And he felt, irrationally, that some pieces had fallen off during this shore leave... the pieces that he used to keep himself sane, for example. This business with Gaila needed to stop. He hadn't seen her since that night he'd walked her home, and it was just as well, he decided. Not only was he her superior officer, but he wasn't exactly playing the field, as it were. He didn't have time for a relationship. Being the Chief Engineer on a Federation starship did not leave a lot of time for that sort of thing.

Not that Gaila was looking for a relationship. It had probably just been a bit of fun for her. So, Scotty decided, it was nice that they'd had their _moment_, and if at least one of them got some good memories (he hoped they were good, anyway) out of it, then that was fine. That was all it needed to be. He would avoid her as much as possible, for as long as it seemed necessary, and then eventually they would come to be on friendly terms of some kind, and then... well, that would be the end of it. No more of this silliness.

Scotty sighed. He was trying to talk himself into believing it all, and it wasn't working.

Because the truth was, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since that night in the hotel lobby. Gaila pervaded his every thought. He dreamed about her, he woke up thinking about her, he spent the day mulling her over, he fell asleep thinking about her and then dreamed about her again. He absolutely hated that he couldn't remember a moment of their night together. He fancied that maybe sometimes he saw flashes of it - her hair hanging down around his face, his hands running over expanses of beautiful green skin... But even as he told himself they were memories, it was just as likely he was making them up, despite any potential accuracy they held.

There was no use denying it: he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her every day, if that was possible. He didn't care how bloody lovesick that sounded. It was the truth.

"Gaila, you've ruined me," Scotty muttered, staring down at his console morosely.

"Excuse me?"

Scotty whirled around. To his great dismay and happiness, Gaila was standing in front of him, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Gaila? What are you - " Scotty caught himself. "Technician. How can I... help you?"

She stood at attention, a huge grin on her face. "I'm reporting for duty," she said, proudly.

Scotty looked at her sideways. "Well... shouldn't you go to the transporter room, then?"

She bit her lip, trying to hold back a grin. "I got promoted."

Scotty was puzzled. "What? How?" He was in charge of that sort of thing. It was his department.

Gaila handed him a PADD. "Look. There. That's your signature, down at the bottom."

Scotty stared down at it, not totally processing it at first. He had done paperwork this morning. Maybe he should've read it after all.

"Right... there," Gaila said, pointing helpfully.

"Yes, I see it, thanks." He shook his head and handed it back to her. "Well. No arguing with that, then." He cleared his throat.

Gaila stood there staring up at him, eyes shining, practically bursting with excitement. "Where should I start?" she asked. It looked like she wanted to start springing cartwheels down the aisles of the engine room. And that made Scotty fall in love with her just a little bit.

"Why don't you... uh... go over the calibrations of the guidance thrusters. Use console three." He pointed.

She nodded and then bounced off. Scotty watched her, already feeling like he couldn't remember the place without her. It didn't seem like anything was going to be the same again.

But they were both professional Starfleet officers. There was no reason they couldn't somehow manage to keep their hands to themselves. No reason at all.

He started to turn back to his work, his head finally clearing.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

She didn't look up from the console. "What are you doing after work?"

_Damn it._


End file.
